indigenous archaeology as decolonizing practice

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Indigenous Archaeology as Decolonizing Practice

Atalay, Sonya.

The American Indian Quarterly, Volume 30, Number 3&4, Summer/Fall

2006, pp. 280-310 (Article)

Published by University of Nebraska Press

DOI: 10.1353/aiq.2006.0015

For additional information about this article

Access Provided by University of Central Oklahoma at 02/08/13 10:12PM GMT

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/aiq/summary/v030/30.3atalay02.html





280 Atalay: Indigenous Archaeology as Decolonizing Practice

Indigenous Archaeology as

Decolonizing Practice

sonya atalay

colonial history, western lens

Archaeology includes the study of artifacts and other aspects of material

culture but is more importantly about people—understanding people’s

daily lives, their sense of place in the world, the food they ate, their art,

their spirituality, and their political and social organization. In piecing

together multiple lines of evidence, including written documents, oral

histories, analytical data from artifacts and ecofacts, and a range of re-

gional and local environmental evidence, archaeologists attempt to writethe stories of the past. Stated simply, archaeology is one of many tools

utilized for understanding the past. However, when placed in its proper

historical context, it is clear that the discipline of archaeology was built

around and relies upon Western knowledge systems and methodologies,

and its practice has a strongly colonial history.1 Many archaeologists have

come to recognize that archaeology is based on, and generally reflects,

the values of Western cultures.2 In privileging the material, scientific,

observable world over the spiritual, experiential, and unquantifiable as-

pects of archaeological sites, ancient peoples, and artifacts, archaeologi-

cal practice demonstrates that it is solidly grounded in Western ways of

categorizing, knowing, and interpreting the world.

However, as Indigenous and local groups around the world have dem-

onstrated, it is not only archaeologists who feel stewardship responsibili-

ties toward archaeological materials and locations—many groups have

rights and responsibilities to the human and material remains and tothe knowledge, memories, and spiritual power that are intimately tied

with the places and materials studied by archaeologists. Prior to Euro-

pean colonization, communities were able to act as stewards over their



american indian quarterly /summer & fall 2006/vol. 30, nos. 3 & 4 281

own cultural resources and history—examining, remembering, teach-

ing, learning, and protecting their own heritage. In North America, as

in many places around the globe, all of that changed abruptly when

colonization began and the wealthy elites from Europe and newly settled

Americans began to exercise their curiosity over the materials beneath

their feet in the “New World.” 3 While disease, quests for land, warfare,

and forced religion were decimating Native people and disrupting their

daily lives and practices, antiquarians and anthropologists were gather-

ing the remains of the dead and dying—including their bodies, skulls,

sacred materials, and items of everyday use—for study and placement

in museums around the world.4

While one of the most far-reaching acts of cultural, spiritual and phys-ical genocide was being perpetuated on the Indigenous people of North

America, archaeologists and anthropologists began to take on the role of

cultural and historical stewards, using the methods of their own Western

cultures to examine, analyze, write, and teach about Indigenous lifeways

and heritage.5 The colonization of North America involved actions and

responses of many individuals and was part of a complex process. Native

people responded to this disruption in their ability to control their cul-

tural resources, history, and heritage in a variety of ways—some buriedsacred items; others sold them in an effort to feed their families; still oth-

ers gave up their traditional spiritual practices to embrace Christianity.

However, through all of this, Indigenous people remained; their sur-

vivance demonstrates their ability to simultaneously both adapt to and

change Western cultural practices, both in the past and the present.

Efforts have been made to understand the complexities involved in the

development of anthropology, archaeology, and museum collections.

In resistance to simplistic bad/good, colonizer/colonized, perpetrator/

victim dichotomies, these studies often include a discussion of the posi-

tive intentions of Western scholars to collect and save remnants of a dying

“race,” offering “products of their time” arguments as explanation and

reason for behaviors such as robbing graves, plundering battlegrounds

for human skulls, and collecting, studying, and storing body parts against

the will and desires of Native populations.6 Yet if we are to take serious the

effort of moving beyond the colonial past toward further positive growthand more ethical and just practices in fields such as archaeology, it is

necessary that contemporary practitioners of the discipline not ignore

the effect of past practices by placing the acts in a historical context that




works to excuse them. Rather, archaeologists might take a more reflexive

approach and contextualize the present situation by tracing archaeolo-

gists’ (and physical anthropologists’) current position of power to both

colonization and the historical reality of the egregious acts that led to

the collections held by museums, universities, and historical societies

internationally. The colonial past is not distinct from today’s realities

and practices, as the precedents that were set continue to define struc-

tures for heritage management practices and have powerful continuing

implications for Indigenous peoples in North America and elsewhere

precisely because they disrupted the self-determination and sovereignty

of Indigenous populations with respect to their abilities to govern and

practice their own traditional forms of cultural resource management.Tammy Lau and Terry Hoover wrote in the online finding aid for the

Michigan Archaeological Society (mas) records that “although the mas,

as a whole, is extremely interested in Native Americans and the indig-

enous cultures of early Michigan, it is doubtful that a Native American

has ever been a member of the mas.”7 This is not only the case within the

mas but is also the circumstance generally in North American archaeol-

ogy and in research conducted globally. Research is most often conducted

by those outside the group being studied, meaning that the cultural heri-tage and history of most Native nations is now written and interpreted

by those who are “others” in one way or another—ethnically, socio-

economically, politically, spiritually, and so on. Any number of variables

might be involved in the distance between those being studied and those

conducting the research. The right of Native communities as sovereign

nations to control and manage their own heritage has been significantly

disrupted. Until recently, this was nearly always the case for archaeologi-

cal research, which continued to be carried out using a Western lens to

interpret, write, and teach the past of others, even though many of those

being studied had living descendants who maintained a cultural con-

nection to and held responsibility for the ancestors and remains under

archaeological investigation. As the materials and places under archaeo-

logical study retain meaning, importance, power, and sacredness in the

present for the descendants and relatives of those who created them, the

struggle with the disruptive and damaging effects of colonization and theresulting distancing from the past by imposed standards and practices

of Western cultural resource management strategies continues in many

communities around the globe.




With this contextualization, it is clear that in practice, archaeology is

much more than simply a tool for understanding the past: archaeological

practice and the knowledge it produces are part of the history and heri-

tage of living people and have complex contemporary implications and

relevance for those people in daily life. This is true for many commu-

nities around the world but is particularly relevant for Indigenous and

colonized groups, as it is predominantly scholars from Western cultures

and worldviews who have held the political, social, and economic power

to study, interpret, write, and teach about Indigenous pasts, viewing

them from within a Western framework or “lens,” to create knowledge

for consumption by Western public and scholarly audiences.8

Where does this leave the methods and concepts of Indigenous andcolonized people in regard to archaeology and their traditional forms

of historical knowledge production and reproduction, their methods of

history education, and their sense of the past and of management of their

own cultural resources and heritage? What are the processes and ethics

by which one group gains and retains the power to exercise stewardship

of, control, speak for, or write the past of others? And how can we cre-

ate a counter-discourse to such processes? Does archaeology necessarily

involve appropriation of the cultural and intellectual property of othersand imposing upon it a Western epistemology and worldview? If not,

how is an Indigenous archaeology, or any other non-Western archaeol-

ogy, different from that of mainstream practice? To address such ques-

tions, must we be left in a state of postmodern relativism that claims

all views of the past are equally valid? And if not, who decides which

knowledge and interpretations are good/accepted/exhibited/taught and

which are bad/dismissed/ignored/silenced? What are the wider implica-

tions of these issues in the globalized world of the twenty-first century?

A decolonizing archaeology begins with such questions.

Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars have begun to examine and

discuss these topics, beginning with a critical recognition of the colonial

lens through which archaeological interpretations have been built.9 In

examining this history and bringing it to the foreground, these scholars

are creating a counter-discourse to the Western ways and colonial and

imperialist practices of the past and are working to find new paths fora decolonized archaeological practice—one that is first and foremost

“with, for, and by” Indigenous people.10 Within an increasingly global-

ized and multicultural world, it is no surprise that important directions




of social science and humanities research now involve postcolonial stud-

ies, decolonizing methodologies, the ethics of conducting research, pub-

lic benefits and access to research, and the ownership of knowledge (e.g.,

intellectual property rights). This article examines Indigenous archaeol-

ogy and the methods and theories associated with its practice and how it

contributes to a much-needed dialogue that looks beyond the long-held

Western way of viewing archaeology, the past, and heritage. This is only

a start in the process of moving forward in the discipline of archaeology

toward considering and integrating the multiple ways in which people

conceive of, study, and manage the past and heritage. I attempt to pro-

vide a brief introduction to some of the ways in which this newly form-

ing field of Indigenous archaeology plays a role in helping Indigenouscommunities recover knowledge and traditions as well as in working to

counter efforts of intellectual and spiritual colonization while also con-

tributing significantly to a broader project of global decolonization. I

examine the influence of Indigenous activists and scholars, as well as the

role of postmodernism, in building the area of Indigenous archaeology

scholarship and practice, and I propose one view of its potential contri-

bution for other local, colonial, and postcolonial communities.

If our goal is to decolonize archaeology, we must then continue to ex-plore ways to create an ethical and socially just practice of archaeological

research—one that is in synch with and contributes to the goals, aims,

hopes, and curiosities of the communities whose past and heritage are

under study, using methods and practices that are harmonious with their

own worldviews, traditional knowledges, and lifeways. I believe this can

be accomplished and that in working toward this goal we are responsible

not only for critiquing past practices but also for building a path toward

a better future for our communities and future generations to benefit

from and improve upon. With this in mind, some preliminary practices,

theories, and methodologies for a decolonized archaeology that might be

used to move beyond critique are offered at the end of this article.

distance of time, distance of worldview

One often hears archaeology described as being primarily concernedwith a study of the unknown, of what has been lost or buried.11 The

“lost” pasts that archaeologists seek to uncover are often distanced from

them by time, culture, or both. In studying the past, archaeologists uti-




lize the contemporary lens of their time to study “others.” Thus, from

its earliest beginnings, there has been a sense of “othering” involved in

archaeological research that is based upon a quest for knowledge and

understanding about those distanced from the present day by time (e.g.,

studying people and cultures from pre historic times, who are worthy of

study because their lifeways are different and unknown).

Through the process of colonization, westerners gained the power to

study not only those distant from themselves by time but also the pasts

of others who were distant from themselves culturally, and often geo-

graphically—those who had been subjected to colonial rule around the

globe. In these colonial contexts, the othering by archaeologists not only

entails the distance of time but also involves distance based on another,more cultural dimension, as it has created a power imbalance that al-

lowed Western archaeologists to study the past lifeways of those who

are not their own ancestors. Archaeologists have utilized Western epis-

temologies to view the practices and lifeways of others, many of whom

held a very different worldview that operated on a different set of onto-

logical and epistemological principles, and this research was also carried

out for the benefit of Western scholars, was (re)produced using Western

methods of recording history (external from people, held in books, forpurchase), and was taught in Western institutions of higher learning or

sold to Western public audiences.

archaeology for the general public?

In North America during the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries,

in what has been described as the time of collectors and antiquarians,those interested in archaeology were predominantly wealthy, educated

elite who explored the past and collected artifacts out of curiosity or for

monetary gain with little knowledge or concern for scientific method-

ology.12 At this time in both Europe and North America, the common

consensus was that the civilizations of the day were the result of evolu-

tionary progress. However, not all members of society were deemed to

be at the same stage of evolutionary progress. As Bruce G. Trigger states

in his review of the history of archaeology,

Large numbers of middle-class people, whose economic and politi-

cal power was increasing as a result of the Industrial Revolution,




were pleased to view themselves as a wave of progress that was in-

herent in human nature and perhaps in the very constitution of the

universe. White Americans were happy to share this optimistic view

but were not prepared to extend it to embrace the native people

whose lands they were seizing.13

The European population in North America thus held an interest in Na-

tive American monuments and artifacts, and collectors and antiquarians

were funded by the wealthy to explore these sites. The works published

by antiquarians were for the middle- and upper-class European settlers

who were interested in understanding the history of the land they had re-

cently seized. As Trigger describes it, “The American public were anxiousthat their continent should have its own history to rival that of Europe

and hence were intrigued by these finds, just as they were to be intrigued

by John L. Stephens’ discovery of lost Maya cities in the jungles of Cen-

tral America in the 1840s.” 14

The settler population’s middle class and elite held an overall fascina-

tion and curiosity about the monuments and remains found in their

“New World,” and this was not limited to the earthen mounds of the

eastern and midwestern regions of the country but also included an ex-treme interest in the monuments and cultures further south in Mexico

and Central America. Public curiosity was satisfied with books such as

the published accounts and drawings by J. L. Stephens and Frederick

Catherwood, which depict Mayan temples and monuments found dur-

ing explorations of Central America.15 These books and others like them,

which were written for the literate European colonial audience and ex-

plored the remains of Indigenous civilizations, became best sellers and

had wide public appeal.

Expeditions such as Thomas Jefferson’s 1784 excavation of the Rivanna

River Valley in Virginia aimed to satisfy curiosity surrounding the well-

known mound builder controversy. The results of these explorations

were of public interest among middle-class, educated Europeans and

Americans, primarily because many of them did not believe local Native

peoples to be capable of building such large-scale earthworks and their

construction was thus considered mysterious. However, Jefferson’s exca-vation illustrates clearly that the audience for early archaeological work

in North America certainly did not include Native American groups.

Jefferson, often referred to as the “Father of American Archaeology,” de-




scribes the reasons for his interest in the Native American burial mound

and his desire to determine who built these tremendous earthworks:

That they were repositories of the dead, has been obvious to all: but

on what particular occasion constructed, was matter of doubt. . . .There being one of these in my neighbourhood, I wished to satisfy

myself whether any, and which of these opinions were just. For this

purpose I determined to open and examine it thoroughly.16

Jefferson goes on to describe in detail the human remains that he

found there:

The sculls [sic ] were so tender, that they generally fell to pieces on

being touched. The other bones were stronger. There were someteeth which were judged to be smaller than those of an adult; a

scull [sic ], which, on a light view, appeared to be that of an infant,

but it fell to pieces on being taken out, so as to prevent satisfactory

examination; a rib, and a fragment of the under-jaw of a person

about half-grown; another rib of an infant; and part of the jaw of a

child, which had not yet cut its teeth. This last furnishing the most

decisive proof of the burial of children here, I was particular in my

attention to it.17

The motivation for Jefferson’s grave robbing was his own curiosity and

his desire to answer a research question that was mysterious to himself

and other non-Indigenous locals, who had no long standing connection

with the area. It was clear to Jefferson that these burial mounds were at

the very least quite important to the local Native people. In reference to

the burial mounds and their importance to local tribal groups, Jefferson

writes:on whatever occasion they may have been made, they are of con-

siderable notoriety among the Indians: for a party passing, about

thirty years ago, through the part of the country where this barrow

is, went through the woods directly to it, without any instructions

or enquiry, and having staid about it some time, with expressions

which were construed to be those of sorrow, they returned to the

high road, which they had left about half a dozen miles to pay this

visit, and pursued their journey.18

It is clear from Jefferson’s account that he knew the importance of

these mounds to some Native groups but that the desires and motiva-




tions of local Native nations were not his motivation or concern. Jeffer-

son was certainly not alone in his views and lack of interest for creating

an archaeology that included the concerns of a Native American audi-

ence, as similar practices continued as sites were excavated and bodies

continued to be exhumed for the next two hundred years. The editor’s

notes for the section of Jefferson’s work quoted earlier state that “as an

amateur archaeologist, among the very earliest on the North American

continent, Jefferson anticipated by a century the aims and methods of

modern archaeological science.” 19 This practice of excluding Native

peoples from the audience of archaeological inquiry was common from

the earliest beginnings of American archaeology and continued until re-

sistance from Indigenous groups began in the 1960s and forced the dis-cipline to reexamine its methods and interactions with Native American

communities.

who owns our past? indigenous action

to decolonize archaeology

In the 1960s Indigenous people globally began publicly voicing criticisms

over the excavation, collection, and display of their cultural and ancestralremains by professional and amateur archaeologists. In his 1969 book

Custer Died for Your Sins , Vine Deloria Jr. brought to written text some

of the sentiments, anger, and outrage that had been felt and voiced for

many years in Indian country about the exploitation of Native people

by anthropologists. In 1971 Maria Pearson fought for the reburial of the

remains of a Native woman found in a pioneer cemetery in Iowa. She

pointed out the discriminatory practices that had been followed when

the majority of the remains from the cemetery were reburied, while the

Native woman’s remains were not. Eventually Pearson won that battle

and the remains were reburied.20 In the years that followed, the Ameri-

can Indian Movement and other community activists staged protests at

excavation sites and at roadside attractions where one could pay to see

Native American ancestral remains, unburied and on display.21 Protests

by Native American activists over these types of injustices with regard to

the treatment of ancestral remains forced archaeologists in North Amer-ica to take notice and address the concerns of Indigenous peoples over

archaeological research and practices. There is now a growing literature




of academic publications, documentaries, and popular books describing

activism around reburial and repatriation, which demonstrates the criti-

cal role that Native American activism played in bringing about legisla-

tive changes and dramatic shifts in archaeological practices.22

During this time, and in large response to the critiques and activism

described earlier, archaeologists began to think critically about their

right to control the material culture of the Indigenous past. Archaeolo-

gists along with other scholars and activists organized a number of con-

ferences, discussions, debates, and publications that addressed issues of

reburial and repatriation.23 The Society for American Archaeology (saa)

began paying greater concern to issues of ethics and social responsibility

in archaeology and by 1991 had researched and adopted a code of ethicsthat included a statement on collaboration and reburial.24 Through this

research and resultant publications, the colonial nature of archaeology

as it had been practiced around the globe became more apparent, and a

growing literature now exists demonstrating the specific ways in which

the discipline of archaeology was closely tied with the project of coloni-

zation in North America and elsewhere.25

Over the past thirty years Native people and other Indigenous groups

globally have been increasingly vocal about their desire to maintain con-trol over their own heritage. As a result, debates over who owns the past,

human remains, and material culture and who has the power to speak

for and write the stories of the past have all played a prominent role in

archaeology. In this long and fierce battle for control over Indigenous

ancestral and cultural remains and heritage, there has been a mix of

responses from archaeologists—some positive, others negative. Those

who responded positively to these debates worked with Native leaders to

bring about a number of changes that were part of the early steps taken

internally toward decolonizing the discipline.26 These changes included

working with Native peoples to develop reburial and repatriation leg-

islation (e.g., the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation

Act [nagpra] and the National Museum of the American Indian [nmai]

legislation); establishing scholarship funds and training opportunities to

increase the numbers of Indigenous people in archaeology; developing

consultation and collaboration between archaeologists and descendantcommunities and stakeholders; further development of ethics guide-

lines; and the rise of intellectual and cultural property research. These




debates have moved archaeological practice in positive, new directions

toward creating a discipline that is sensitive to, and harmonious with, the

concerns and goals of Indigenous peoples and descendant populations.

The decolonization of archaeological practice has also been influenced

by the changing demographics of the United States and the increase in

diversity at institutions of higher education.27 As the ethnic and cultural

diversity of the United States and its institutions of higher learning in-

creases and a greater number of Indigenous people and others famil-

iar with the effects of colonization on their culture and communities

enter the academy, the topic of archaeology’s colonial lineage contin-

ues to move further to the foreground, creating a diverse critical mass,

of sorts, of those interested in changing aspects of the practice of ar-chaeology. In terms of Indigenous people, the situation in the United

States is similar to that found among Indigenous groups globally, where

very few Indigenous people are archaeologists, although a majority of

the archaeology under examination in many regions are sites used by,

lived in, and created by the ancestors of living Indigenous populations.

Following the leadership of community activists and scholars in other

disciplines, a large number of Indigenous people continue to commit

themselves to reclaiming ancestors and repatriation struggles. To facili-tate these struggles, some have received training and advanced degrees

in archaeology. Others have found archaeology to be a useful part of

understanding tribal histories and recovering Indigenous traditions. As

a result, there are a growing number of Indigenous people who have ca-

reers, in one form or another, in archaeology, and the influence of these

Native leaders, who often view themselves as Indigenous activists work-

ing to change the discipline of archaeology from within, is now capable

of having a profound effect on the direction of archaeological methods,

theories, practice, and ethics.

the role of postmodern theory in archaeology

As critiques by Native Americans and other Indigenous populations

globally on the injustices of research practices that did not benefit them

and exploited their ancestral and material remains were building, post-modernism was taking hold in the academy. Postmodern thought made

its way into archaeology through a theoretical approach called postpro-

cessualism.28 Rather than one coherent theoretical and methodological




approach, postprocessual thought in archaeology includes a number of

approaches that have in common a reaction to and critique of the earlier

dominant paradigm of processualism, which relied strongly on positivist

approaches to the past with the goal of understanding the processes of

human behavior.29 Among other things, postprocessualism brought de-

bates over self-reflexivity, multi-vocality, social context of archaeology,

ethics, and multiple interpretations to the minds of archaeologists glob-

ally, particularly those educated or practicing in North America, Europe,

and other Western contexts.30 Debates between supporters of these two

paradigms continue today, but one of the outcomes of these discussions

has been the realization by many archaeologists that there are multiple

ways of seeing, interpreting, and understanding the past, and attempts tograpple with issues of objectivity and subjectivity remain a critical topic

of inquiry. It was the influence of postmodern thought, and an envi-

ronment of self-reflexivity brought forward by postprocessual critiques,

that led to the recognition that archaeology, like history, is strongly in-

fluenced by the social and political context of the time. A large body of

literature began to be developed addressing these issues and providing

examples as to how research and writing about the past is a product of

the time in which it is produced; archaeological data are theory laden;and the knowledge produced by archaeologists reflects aspects of the cul-

tural context in which it is created.31 Included in this literature is research

related to the colonial nature of archaeology and the Western worldview

inherent in most archaeological examinations and interpretations.

Although great strides have been made toward bringing this knowl-

edge out of the silent background, much work remains to be done to

ensure that this is foregrounded and part of the reproduction of knowl-

edge (i.e., teaching) for the next generation of scholars as well as to the

general public, who constitute the informed, voting citizenry of power-

ful Western nations. The recent controversy over “The Ancient One” is

evidence for the important work that remains in terms of educating the

average American citizen, as well as the media, from which most people

gain their information, with regard to the effects of colonization on in-

terpretations about knowledge production and reproduction in topics of

archaeology, the past, history, and heritage.32

As a result of Indigenous activism, which raised public and academic

consciousness of the injustices that Native People were experiencing as a

direct result of archaeological research, and the simultaneous introduc-




tion of postmodern thought into archaeological theory in the form of

postprocessual critiques, the colonial nature of archaeology and the level

to which archaeological knowledge remains steeped in Western ways of

knowing are slowly becoming apparent and accepted by archaeologists.

It was in this environment that Indigenous archaeology began, in an

effort to create understanding of the differences between Western and

Indigenous ways of approaching human remains, sacred sites, and cul-

tural materials and of the highly charged political, social, and spiritual

ramifications of these differences. I argue that the historical context and

level of Indigenous social consciousness that gave birth to Indigenous

archaeology, as well the knowledge and experience it brings from Indige-

nous people who have a long-term and painful experience with strugglesinvolving colonization, make it an excellent avenue through which we

might envision and build a decolonized archaeology.

building an indigenous archaeology

The theoretical and methodological tenets and practices of Indigenous

archaeology are currently being defined. The concepts and practices it

professes have not been clearly defined, but rather are in the process of being articulated, with both Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars

contributing to its development. In my own view, Indigenous archaeol-

ogy includes research that critiques and deconstructs Western archaeo-

logical practice as well as research that works toward recovering and in-

vestigating Indigenous experiences, practices, and traditional knowledge

systems.33 George Nicholas has referred to Indigenous archaeology as,

“archaeology with, for, and by” Indigenous people.34 I agree with Nich-

olas that an Indigenous archaeology should be engaged in conducting

research that is beneficial and valuable for descendent communities, and

I advocate such research to be carried out in full collaboration with com-

munity members, elders, and spiritual and cultural leaders. However,

I argue that Indigenous archaeology is not only for and by Indigenous

people but has wider implications and relevance outside of Indigenous

communities. In my view Indigenous archaeology provides a model for

archaeological practice that can be applied globally as it calls for andprovides a methodology for collaboration of descendent communities

and stakeholders around the world.

It is critical to make a distinction here between consultation, which is




currently required as part of the nagpra legislation, and collaboration.

Unlike collaboration, consultation does not necessarily allow for Indig-

enous people to play an active role in the entire research process, includ-

ing research design, grant writing and funding processes, analysis and

interpretation of results, production of reports, and sharing of research

results in a culturally effective way with community members.35 A grow-

ing number of scholars have been exploring collaborative methodologies

and putting forth models for effective means of determining what is ap-

plicable and valuable in any particular community and their methods for

carrying out such research.36 Such research is quite valuable, and I believe

this is an area that requires a great deal of further exploration and inves-

tigation among Indigenous archaeologists in order to further developeffective methodologies. Whatever models are put forth, it seems clear

that there will not be one definitive solution for effective collaborative

practice but that each circumstance will require its own unique strategy.

Some of the challenges to be faced in this area include how to determine

the appropriate collaborative partners in each community, how to face

the challenges of working with diverse groups within each community

(who may each have different desires and aspirations in terms of research

plans and agendas), how to fund collaborative projects, and issues of intellectual property rights—to name only a few. In my own research, I

have found the participatory research and popular education model of

Paolo Freire to be one worthy of further exploration, and I discuss this

topic in greater detail later in this article. However, beyond a Freirian ap-

proach, there are a number of potential collaborative methodologies to

be explored—each with challenges to be faced—but it is clear that any

models of collaborative research must involve descendent communities

and explore the methods and practices they see as culturally relevant and

appropriate.

Beyond the issue of collaboration, identity and place are two of the

issues related to Indigenous archaeology that I’d like to address here

briefly—questions of who does, or can do, it and where is it carried out

seem critical to address. While I agree that Indigenous archaeology is

something that must involve Indigenous people, scholars as well as el-

ders, tribal historians, community members, spiritual leaders, and otherstakeholders, I argue that Indigenous archaeology is not simply archaeol-

ogy done by or involving Indigenous people. One need not be an Indig-

enous person to engage in the practice of Indigenous archaeology—it




does not include such essentialist qualities. Archaeology on Indigenous

land, conducted by Native people without a critical gaze that includes

collaboration, Indigenous epistemologies, and Native conceptions of the

past, history, and time or that neglects to question the role of research

in the community would simply replicate the dominant archaeological

paradigm. Such a noncritical archaeology would be part of an imperialist

practice, one that disperses the methods of the mainstream (American

and British archaeology) to the “other.” 37

It may be the case that Indigenous people who become archaeologists

will choose a nation-centered research agenda, one in which they focus

on questions of interest to their own community. Some might view such

an approach negatively, taking it to be part of a nationalist or revital-ist project; however, I would disagree with this assessment and argue

that a desire among Indigenous archaeologists to study the “self” is not

part of a state-sponsored nationalism but rather part of a larger decolo-

nizing project to develop counter-discourse. As part of a decolonizing

practice, Indigenous archaeologists aim to challenge to the master narra-

tive and attempt to de-center standard archaeological practice, to bring

back to Indigenous people the power to set the agenda for their own

heritage, to ask the questions, to determine what is excavated, and toremain involved in interpretations and dissemination of knowledge that

reflect their own traditional methods of cultural resource management.

As Linda Tuhiwai Smith notes in her book Decolonizing Methodologies ,

such a research agenda might also include pointing out the power rela-

tions involved in mainstream archaeological practice and bringing the

imbalance of power to the foreground.

Indigenous archaeology exists and is growing today because Indige-

nous people, marginalized and victimized by the early development and

ongoing daily practice of anthropology, archaeology, and other social

sciences, are finding ways to create counter-discourse that speaks back

to the power of colonialist and imperialist interpretations of the past.

This research is situated to work from the place of the “local,” among

the elders and people in our communities—to acknowledge their cri-

tiques of exploitative research practices, to name them, and deconstruct

them. Our research may then examine ways of regaining lost traditionsand use those to move beyond critique of Western archaeological prac-

tices to offer a positive plan of forward movement toward a more ethi-

cal practice that takes seriously the concern of Indigenous people with




regard to their own heritage. Indigenous archaeology is thus part of a

decolonizing process that aims to improve upon problematic aspects of

mainstream archaeological practices by incorporating Indigenous con-

cepts and knowledge forms.

Audre Lorde writes that “the master’s tools will never dismantle the

master’s house,” and truthfully, some Indigenous activists might agree

with this stance, arguing that archaeology (and archaeologists) are part of

the problem of an ongoing colonization in Indigenous communities—a

problem that must be tackled and dismantled by halting all archaeo-

logical research.38 However, I disagree and would argue that although

mainstream archaeology requires critical reflection and considerable

change in order to become decolonized, this work is beneficial for In-digenous communities because it will bring about positive and effective

change from within the discipline that will result in a powerful research

tool from which Indigenous people, and others around the globe, can

benefit. A decolonized archaeology can play a critical beneficial role in

the recovery of many other precolonization Indigenous practices that, as

Angela Cavender Wilson points out, once adapted to our contemporary

world, can be important for our health and well-being.39 Some of these

include foodways and harvesting, spiritual practices and ceremonialknowledge, methods of education and reproduction of knowledge, and

land use and conservation practices. However, I agree with Cavender

Wilson that not all topics and areas of research are appropriate for in-

vestigation by outsiders, and the topics of research and emphasis for de-

veloping projects that seek to recover Indigenous practices and concepts

must be those thought worthy and appropriate for sharing by Indigenous

communities.40

centering indigenous concepts

In my own work, I have found it helpful to investigate the postcolonial

concept of “de-centering.” De-centering involves moving concepts from

the margin to the center. In terms of archaeological research, I’ve found

it useful to de-center certain dominant Western concepts relating to the

linear and departmentalized view of time, systems of production andreproduction of knowledge, and the role of research in society. In bring-

ing to the center of archaeological theory some of the concepts held by

Indigenous people about the past, traditional ways of teaching about his-




tory, heritage, and ancestral remains, and the role and responsibilities of

research knowledge for communities, we would be in a position to begin

envisioning a very different type of archaeological practice— one that

emphasizes ethics and social justice for a wider, more diverse audience.

However, we must ask the question, if in working to de-center some of

the problematic aspects of Western archaeological practice, are we then

advocating for destroying one power structure (a Western one) to simply

replace it with another, Indigenous-centered one? I ask this question be-

cause of a recent dialogue I had on this topic in which by suggesting the

de-centering of Western concepts in order to center Indigenous views,

I was labeled a “colonist,” someone who was doing nothing different

than what Western scholars had done before me (i.e., forcing my Indig-enous worldview onto others). In response to such an argument I feel

it is critical that we think carefully about what it is that we are calling

for in decolonizing archaeology, and other Western-dominated forms of

discourse and practice (history, museums, sociology, etc.). In addressing

this issue, I argue as both Abiola Irele and Peter R. Schmidt have that

we must sometimes use the master’s tools (in this case critique and aca-

demic scholarship) to create a counter-discourse to Western approaches

that have consistently worked to destroy or silence our Indigenous waysof knowing.41

There are numerous concepts and areas of traditional Indigenous

knowledge that deserve further attention and research as part of Indige-

nous archaeology and a wider decolonizing archaeological practice. I of-

fer here one example of de-centering that seems critical in an Indigenous

archaeology—the Anishinaabe concept of gikinawaabi .42 Gikinawaabi

is an Anishinaabe concept that describes the passing or reproduction of

knowledge, through experience, from elder to younger generations. It

relies on the oral tradition and on practice, in daily life. After exploring

the implications and practices of this concept in past and contemporary

Anishinaabe life, I argue that gikinawaabi is a concept that should be

centered in an Indigenous archaeology, particularly for what it implies

about the communal access to knowledge.

In Ojibwe culture, while certain people have greater access to some

forms of knowledge than others, there remains a sense that knowledge,particularly that related to our history, is shared by the community. It is

not stored externally, in books on shelves, but is internal —held inside

the people themselves. Knowledge of this sort might be put in the care of




certain individuals whose responsibility it is to exercise knowledge stew-

ardship in protecting and passing on that knowledge. Yet, it is of critical

importance that tribal history be for the community, not something ex-

ternal from them. It is passed from elders to youth, via the oral tradition

through face-to-face interactions and in daily life practice.

If archaeology is to take a lesson from gikinawaabi practices, then ar-

chaeological collaboration with Indigenous and local communities must

become standard practice, as questions of ownership and stewardship of

cultural property in the form of historical knowledge, access to it, and

the processes by which it is reproduced in the community are brought

to the center. Although this concept is from an Ojibwe tradition and

holds particular relevance and importance in that cultural context, I ar-gue that it is also an example of the way in which traditional Indigenous

knowledge holds wisdom and relevance for the larger global community

of which it is a part. In this way, gikinawaabi as a centered and central

part of mainstream archaeological practice holds important implications

for the theory, methods, and practice of archaeology globally, outside of

Ojibwe, Native North American, or Indigenous settings. It has relevance

for an ethical and decolonized practice globally, which brings history

back into the hands, hearts, and minds of a wider audience of diversestakeholders, descendant communities, and publics. Borrowing from

Ojibwe literary scholar, Gerald Vizenor’s poetical description, it allows

for an archaeologist as a teller of stories to “relume the diverse memories

of the visual past into the experiences and metaphors of the present” as

“original eruptions of time.” 43 Thus, archaeologists become critically en-

gaged storytellers of sorts, who might utilize a range of scientific methods

for examination yet retain an understanding, appreciation, and respect

for the importance of the past in the present and the ethical implications

of practice that entails. In the approach I am advocating for, Indigenous

forms of science, history, and heritage management would be researched

and then blended with Western concepts to produce Indigenous archae-

ology methods, theories, and practices that are ethical and socially just

and put forward as models of a decolonized archaeology.

popular education as gikinawaabi in practice

Paolo Freire’s work on participatory research and popular education

is an excellent model for putting gikinawaabi concepts into practice.44




Freire began participatory research and popular education movements

by working in solidarity with oppressed groups in Brazil to increase their

rights and political power through literacy education. He calls for re-

search designs based on what oppressed groups want to examine—in a

practice driven by their questions, to produce knowledge that is shared

by and useful for them. His concepts of popular education and partici-

patory research hold incredible potential for Indigenous archaeological

research and will certainly help to address the challenge of collaboration

and engagement with diverse Indigenous communities.

One of the critical points from Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed is

that well-intentioned individuals, who are often part of the oppressor

group, put themselves in the position of trying to save the oppressed by imposing their own research questions, ideals, and methods upon the

oppressed group. This is a particularly sensitive area in Native American

and other colonized and heavily researched communities, where people

have been the subjects of far too many exploitative research agendas,

many of which were well intentioned. Collaborative research, particu-

larly with the methods of participatory action research, offers a way for

oppressed groups and, as Freire puts it, those who are in true solidarity

with them to struggle for equality and the ability to take an active role ineffective change and improvement in their own communities. The work

of Freire, and others who follow the Freirian model, has influenced my

approach to Indigenous archaeology by bringing to the forefront ques-

tions about the integration of research and education and the role of

research as an emancipatory process that democratizes knowledge.

The concept of sharing archaeological knowledge with a range of pub-

lics is not new for archaeology. The Society for American Archaeology

(saa), the Canadian Archaeology Association (caa), and other national

and international professional archaeology organizations have a long his-

tory of outreach and public education.45 However, from an Indigenous

archaeological perspective, and particularly using the gikinawaabi con-

cept, there is a conflict between standard “outreach” and the concepts of

communal sharing of knowledge about the past. Currently, archaeologi-

cal public education often entails the unidirectional design of imparting

research findings to a willing public audience through public lectures,popular books, or an onsite “public” day. This is based on the problem-

atic concept of “us” (archaeologists) giving “them” (the other) answers

to questions chosen by the researcher. In bringing to the center the con-




cept of gikinawaabi , archaeologists are faced with the questions, Whom

is the research for? Who benefits and how? Using Freirian concepts, an

Indigenous archaeology calls for research that is done for the commu-

nity, in a true collaborative effort with them, including research design,

final interpretations, and dissemination of that knowledge through cul-

turally sensitive pedagogical models.

Another important issue that we must face with the current approach

of archaeological public outreach and education, and one which is also

relevant with the saa statement of ethics, is that Indigenous and descen-

dant groups are seen as only one of many interested publics.46 Unlike the

ethics statements of the World Archaeological Congress and the Austra-

lian Archaeological Society, the statement of ethics of the saa currently does not acknowledgement the primacy of Indigenous and descendant

groups’ interests in the archaeological record related to their own heri-

tage.47 This is something that must be changed, and using a gikinawaabi -

centered approach would help to do so by bringing Indigenous and other

descendant groups to the center when addressing sites, landscapes, ma-

terials, and ancestral remains that are part of their heritage and for which

they feel the responsibility of care and knowledge stewardship. In many

cases, this is a stewardship role that Indigenous communities are willingto share with archaeologists but one that must include the primacy of

Indigenous stewardship that colonization forcefully removed.

wider implications: traditional indigenous knowledge

to transform research

Part of the practice of decolonizing archaeology is to research Indig-

enous traditional knowledge and practices and to utilize them, as Caven-

der Wilson describes, “for the benefit of all humanity.”48 There is a great

deal of knowledge and wisdom in these practices and teachings that has

the power to benefit our own Indigenous communities as well as others

globally. Traditional Indigenous knowledge holds in it a wisdom, some

of which is appropriate to share and can help to build strength for other

communities. Thus a decolonizing archaeology must take as one of its

goals the work of bringing these concepts to the academy and workingtoward their legitimization in areas of research that have a dramatic im-

pact on Indigenous people globally, such as archaeology. Beyond that,

we must also engage in the struggle to put these concepts into practice in




our own scholarship, producing models that those working with descen-

dent groups around the globe can follow.

Integral to this work is the realization and acknowledgement that

Western ways of knowing are not in any way superior or natural—they

are produced and reproduced through daily practice. As such, these ways

of knowing and understanding the world can be disrupted, changed, and

improved upon. As all aspects of human life and culture, knowledge and

practices associated with its production and reproduction are not static

but are constantly changing. Through Indigenous archaeology research

as part of a global decolonizing practice, it is possible to find effective

ways to regain our traditional knowledge, epistemologies, and practices

and bring that knowledge, when appropriate for sharing outside of Na-tive contexts, to the fore. Currently, one value system and standard is

used—one that views Western science, theories, and methods as the

standard and goal with the aim of producing knowledge truths. Decolo-

nizing archaeology entails researching alternative ways of viewing the

past, history, and heritage and working to see that these are viewed as

valuable and legitimate ways of seeing. Some might utilize the resulting

methods and theories in Indigenous communities, while others see the

value of incorporating certain aspects into archaeological practice morebroadly, as part of a wider project of global decolonization.

Thus Indigenous archaeology is not marginal in its applicability but

rather has implications for mainstream archaeological practice globally.

It offers the potential of bringing to archaeology a more ethical and en-

gaged practice, one that is more inclusive and rich without sacrificing the

rigor and knowledge production capacity that make it such a powerful

tool for understanding and creating knowledge of the past.

conclusion: moving beyond western

archaeological practice

Archaeological methods of analysis, research directions, and theoretical

approaches have changed dramatically since the early days of the disci-

pline, and today archaeological research topics relate to various aspects

of cultural heritage, representation, and identity that overlap with fieldssuch as ethnic studies, cultural anthropology, art and art history, heritage

studies, history, and museums studies. Research and teaching within

archaeology is multi-disciplinary and involves methods and analytical




techniques related to chemistry, ecology, biology, botany, statistics, geol-

ogy, geography, and many others. Since it looks at a range of cultures

globally and with a deep historical trajectory, archaeology also has the

potential to play a critical role in helping us to understand multi-cul-

turalism, identity, colonization, and decolonization. It has the ability

to provide alternative views of the master narrative and to tell histories

that might otherwise be silenced.49 When done properly, archaeological

training and education can broadly improve students’ critical thinking

skills and expose them to the complexity and nuances inherent in issues

of heritage, reburial and repatriation, research ethics, intellectual and

cultural property concerns, and decolonization practices—issues that

are critical for Indigenous communities globally.In this article I have offered several examples of where work has been

done and where it remains to be done toward decolonizing archaeology

and bringing it more closely to its full potential as a socially just tool

of knowledge (re)production. The aim has been to put forth a model

that might be used as a stepping stone, not something that should be

duplicated everywhere, but something that should be contemplated and

further developed as archaeologists work in true collaboration with In-

digenous, descendant, and local groups worldwide. Part of this effort willinvolve examination of the ways in which archaeologists and Indigenous

peoples might work together to shape a shared future and an exploration

of core issues that include the following: Who benefits from archaeologi-

cal research? Is the Western, scientific approach to archaeological theory

and method necessarily the “best” way of interpreting the past? What are

the practical ramifications of archaeological research for the Indigenous

peoples, for whom the “artifacts” of archaeology are a living heritage?

I argue that if archaeologists and Indigenous people are to be success-

ful stewards of the archaeological record, we must begin to explore ways

of moving beyond posturings that pit science against religion or polarize

interests of Indigenous people against archaeologists, and I advocate for a

collaborative approach that blends the strengths of Western archaeologi-

cal science with the knowledge and epistemologies of Indigenous peoples

to create a set of theories and practices for an ethically informed study

of the past, history, and heritage. Indigenous groups and archaeologistshave shared interests—the exploitation of mounds and earthworks in

the Midwest or the return of archaeological materials held by univer-

sity secret societies (such as the University of Michigan’s Michigamua or




Princeton’s Skull and Bones Society), and these are logical places to begin

exploring ways of building future methods and theories.50

A decolonizing archaeology must include topics such as the social

construction of cultural heritage, concerns over revitalization of tradi-

tion and Indigenous knowledge, issues of ownership and authority, cul-

tural and intellectual property, and the history and role of museums,

collections and collecting. We must ask questions such as, What does it

mean to have ones history, story, or knowledge examined, interpreted,

and displayed by “outsiders”? Who has access to this knowledge? Who

has the right to examine it, to write about it? Who owns the imagery,

symbols, and knowledge of a cultural, social, or ethnic group, and who

controls how that is used? Who has the right to interpret it, speak aboutit, display it, profit from it?

It is equally critical that we continue to put forth models to change

and rebuild methods, theory, and practice in archaeology. This requires

thinking carefully about what we would like to see. How would we like

archaeological research to be conducted? Are we calling for the replace-

ment of the Western, scientific practice of archaeology with an Indig-

enous one, or should we advocate for a blending of these and other ways

of knowing/viewing /interpreting the past (as I have advocated for in thisarticle)? It seems that the only way forward is to engage with a range of

“other” concepts about history, culture, heritage, and the past in order to

produce new ideas and a new direction—a direction that starts with the

people, situated locally with primacy given to descendant communities,

while also considering the interests of other stakeholders and publics.

Indigenous archaeology is thus part of a wider project of decolonizing

and democratizing knowledge production in archaeology and the so-

cial sciences more broadly. It has the potential to bring to archaeology

a model for sustainable research practice that has global applicability in

the twenty-first century and for many generations to come.

notes

Migwetch: This work was completed with the support of the University of

California President’s Postdoctoral Fellowship Program. I would like to thank

Amy Lonetree, who discussed many ideas and concepts with me while I workedthrough the development of the ideas presented here; the Closet Chickens for

their support and inspiration; Shannon Martin for reminding me that our com-




munities need archaeologists and the important and difficult work that we do;

and finally Theo Mendoza (and all of the bb6) for their unending support dur-

ing these challenging times of change. Ni kani gana.

1. The terms “Western” and “Indigenous” are used throughout this article to

denote very broad, general groups of people and communities, each of which

in itself encompasses a great deal of complexity and diversity of views. While I

assume that the reader is aware of the categories that I refer to, I want to be clear

that by using these broad categorizations in an attempt to present this argument

from a general perspective, I do not intend to insinuate that either term refers to

a monolithic, homogenous group with rigid and clearly defined epistemologies

and worldviews, but rather each includes a great deal of diversity.

2. See, e.g., Mann, Native Americans ; Thomas, Skull Wars ; Trigger, History of

Archaeological Thought ; Watkins, Indigenous Archaeology .3. For a background on early excavations of burial mounds and collecting

practices in the United States, see Thomas, Skull Wars , particularly chapter 6

(52–63) and Chapter 12 (123–132), and Mann, Native Americans , particularly

chapters 1–2 (5–104).

4. Mihesuah’s edited volume Repatriation Reader provides a range of per-

spectives on contemporary issues of repatriation. See Riding-In, “Our Dead

Are Never Forgotten,” for an excellent historical overview and Echo-Hawk and

Echo-Hawk, Battlefields and Burial Grounds for a brief introduction to the strug-gles of Native communities to reclaim their dead. Thomas, Skull Wars provides a

more general overview of the growth of museum collections through excavation

and salvage anthropology and the contemporary effects of those practices.

5. For a discussion on the extent of this genocide see Thornton, American

Indian Holocaust .

6. In his book Ishi’s Brain , Orin Starn attempts to strike a balance in his pre-

sentation of the treatment of Ishi and does not present the salvage anthropology

of the day as simply a product of the times. See also Clifford, “Looking Several

Ways,” for further discussion on this issue.

7. Michigan Historical Collections, finding aid for Michigan Archaeological

Society Records, 1924–1991, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan.

Accessed February 1, 2005.

8. For further information on the typical public archaeology and museum go-

ing audience see Allen, “Reaching the Hidden Audience”; Ramos and Duganne,

“Exploring Public Perceptions”; and White, “Archaeology and Tourism.”

9. See Colley, Uncovering Australia , 171–190; Layton, Who Needs the Past ?;

McGuire, “Why Have Archaeologists?” 74 –78; Nicholas and Andrews, At a Crossroads ; Patterson, Toward a Social History ; Schmidt and Patterson, Making

Alternative Histories .




10. Nicholas, “Education and Empowerment,” 85.

11. E.g. Bourbon, Lost Cities of the Mayas ; McNaspy and Blanch, Lost Cities of

Paraguay ; O’Connor, Lost Cities of the Ancient Southeast .

12. Trigger, History of Archaeological Thought , 27–72.

13. Trigger, History of Archaeological Thought , 109.

14. Trigger, History of Archaeological Thought , 105.

15. Stephens, 1969 (1841) #141; Stephens, 1973 (original 1843) #140; both illus-

trated by Frederick Catherwood.

16. Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia , 97.




20. Echo-Hawk and Echo-Hawk, Battlefields and Burial Grounds , 32.21. For accounts of protests, see, e.g., Echo-Hawk and Echo-Hawk, Battle-

fields and Burial Grounds , 31– 40; Riffe, “Who Owns the Past”; and Thomas,

Skull Wars , 198–208.

22. See Bray, Future of the Past ; Dongoske, Working Together ; Mihesuah,

Repatriation Reader ; Swidler and Society for American Archaeology, Na-

tive Americans and Archaeologists ; Thomas, Skull Wars ; Watkins, Indigenous

Archaeology .

23. See sources from the previous note; also see Biolsi and Zimmerman, In-dians and Anthropologists .

24. See the Society of American Archaeology ethics statement: http://www

.saa.org/aboutSAA /committees/ethics/principles.html.

25. See Colley, Uncovering Australia ; Harrison and Williamson, After Captain

Cook ; Mann, Native Americans ; Thomas, Skull Wars ; Watkins, “Archaeological

Ethics.” See also L. Smith, Decolonizing Methodologies , for the colonial nature of

archaeology in broader research context.

26. E.g., Zimmerman, “A New and Different Archaeology?”; McGuire, “Why

Have Archaeologists?”; Layton, Conflict in the Archaeology ; Layton, Who Needs

the Past ?; Ferguson, Anyon, and Ladd, “Representation of Indian Bodies.”

27. See Hodder, “Postprocessual Archaeology”; Hodder, Reading the Past ;

Preucel et al, Processual and Postprocessual Archaeologies ; also see Trigger, History

of Archaeological Thought , for an in depth description of this history.

28. Trigger, History of Archaeological Thought , chapters 8–9.

29. See Gathercole, Lowenthal, and NetLibrary, Politics of the Past ; Hod-

der, Archaeological Process ; Hodder, “Introduction”; Hodder, “Postprocessual

Archaeology”; Kehoe, Land of Prehistory ; Layton, Conflict in the Archaeology ;Layton, Who Needs the Past ?; Martin and Wodak, Re/Reading the Past ; Preucel

and Hodder, Contemporary Archaeology in Theory ; Preucel et al, Processual and




Postprocessual Archaeologies ; Whitley, Reader in Archaeological Theory ; Zimmer-

man, Vitelli, and Hollowell-Zimmer, Ethical Issues in Archaeology .

30. See, e.g., Gathercole, Lowenthal, and NetLibrary, Politics of the Past ; Hod-

der, Interpreting Archaeology ; Kohl and Fawcett, Nationalism.

32. For information about the “Ancient One” controversy, see Smith and

Burke, “In the Spirit of the Code”; Thomas, Skull Wars ; Watkins, “Archaeologi-

cal Ethics”; Zimmerman and Echo-Hawk, “Beyond Racism.”

33. In the way I use the term throughout this article, “Western archaeology”

includes the very broad range of methodological approaches currently part of

mainstream practice in the United States and elsewhere and involves aspects of

both processual and postprocessual theoretical approaches. As referred to in this

article, Western archaeology generally is based on, or relies upon, the tenets of

the scientific method and aims to bring multiple lines of evidence together tocreate rich, textured, and accurate accounts of past lifeways.

34. Nicholas, “Education and Empowerment,” 85.

35. Forsman, “Cultural Resource Management,” 2–3.

36. For some interesting examples, see Foster and Croes, “Tribal-Archaeo-

logical Cooperative Agreement”; Lightfoot et al, “The Metini Village Project”;

Nicholas, “Education and Empowerment”; Nicholas and Andrews, At a Cross-

roads ; Robinson, “Shampoo Archaeology.”

37. For a description of imperialist archaeology see Trigger, “AlternativeArchaeologies.”

38. Lorde, Sister Outsider , 112.

39. Cavender Wilson, “Reclaiming Our Humanity,” 83–84

40. Cavender Wilson, “Reclaiming Our Humanity,” 83.

41. See Irele, “African Scholar,” and Schmidt, “Using Archaeology” (both

discussed in Schmidt and Patterson, Making Alternative Histories , 24).

42. Chippewa is synonymous with Ojibwe, and both describe one segment

of a larger, tri-partite group with common kinship ties. The general name for

the group is Anishinaabe, which is now the common name we use to refer to

ourselves.

43. Vizenor, People Named the Chippewa .

44. Freire, Education ; Freire, Pedagogy of Freedom; Freire, Pedagogy of the

Oppressed .

45. saa public education information is available online at http://www.saa.

org/pubedu/index.html; see also the framing of public outreach and education

in the ethics statement of the caa, online at http://www.canadianarchaeology.

com/conduct.lasso.46. saa ethics statement, online at http://www.saa.org/aboutSAA /

committees/ethics/principles.html.




47. World Archaeological Congress First Code of Ethics, online at http://www

.wac.uct.ac.za/archive/content/vermillion.accord.html; Australian Archaeolog-

ical Association Code of Ethics, online at http://www.australianarchaeologica-

lassociation.com.au/codeofethics.php.

48. Cavender Wilson, “Reclaiming Our Humanity,” 75.

49. For examples, see Schmidt and Patterson, Making Alternative Histories .

50. For university secret societies, see Maggard, “Michigamua Office”; Mil-

legan, Fleshing out Skull and Bones ; Robbins, Secrets of the Tomb .

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